The Killing King of Gratis

by Jay Jackson

  Delroy was stumbling and crawling his way through the tunnels. They were dank and damp with a thin muddy sheet of water continuously running under his feet. He fell every twenty or so feet and could feel the mud starting to cake up and get into his eyes. Great time for my contacts to be killing me.

  His small flashlight barely pierced the darkness in front of him. The main tunnel split off into smaller ones as he went forward. He tried to stay in the widest one at each split, which was hard to do in the dark. He hoped that he was in the right one each time he had to choose, but he wasn’t sure.

  Worse yet, the inky blackness gave him the willies, even now as he was stumbling trying to find the children. He was never a big fan of the dark, not as a child and not now. Memories of his mom sleeping on a couch outside of his room when he was twelve bombarded him. He had seen his first slasher movie, without her permission, and was afraid to sleep. She was mad at him, but she slept on that couch for two weeks, keeping the nightmares and the darkness at bay.

  Now, Delroy had to make the darkness his friend, as much as he couldn’t stand it. He kept his flashlight facing down and could only see the ground directly in front of him. His sole advantage was surprise, and he hoped that Skipper would be too pre-occupied to hear or see him coming if he found them. As it was, every stray glint of his flashlight made him wince, and every footfall seemed to echo.

  Finally, he began to make some progress by shuffling his feet as he walked. It was a little louder than he wanted, but that way he could feel his way over the floor. He didn’t have to use his flashlight as much, didn’t have to fear the light nudging Skipper to let him know he was there. He shuffled this way for what seemed hours. Delroy was starting to believe he was lost or had gone down the wrong tunnel when he heard murmurs ahead. He had no idea how far ahead but kept shuffling toward them through the dark. Soon he could make out words and saw a faint light further ahead. He turned off his flashlight and listened.

  “Shut up Meggie…take your jeans off or I’ll take your brother’s head off….your choice so don’t mess it up…” The voice was definitely Skipper. Delroy could also hear low sobbing. It was definitely Meg, and at the same time not her. His Meg was defiant and sure of herself. The sobbing he heard was a child’s defeat. The anger welling inside made him tremble.

  He wanted to make it to Skipper before that shotgun went off. He wanted to put his hands on him. He needed to hurt him badly.

  Delroy shuffled ahead, as quietly as he could, going toward the light and voices. He couldn’t fall now. Any stumbling, any sound, would alert Skipper. If I make noise the children will die. It felt like it took forever, slowly shuffling toward the light, although he probably got there in under ten minutes.

  Finally, at the opening where the tunnel got wider, he saw his Meg. She was wearing nothing but her underwear and a t-shirt. It was a Barbie t-shirt he got her last year on her birthday. She loved her Barbie collection when she was little, but Anna laughed when Meg tried it on, telling him that “Meg put those dolls away years ago.” Meg wore the shirt anyway. He knew it was only because she loved him, and he loved to see her in it.

  Now it looked obscene and wrong because it made her look so young. Just how Skipper wants her. Delroy’s stomach hardened into a knot.

  Around her neck, Skipper had looped a rope tied to a rusted metal bar bolted into the rock wall, running from one wall to the other. Meg had to stand on tiptoes because the rope wasn’t long enough for her to stand flat footed. She leaned against the rope, her body twitching from one side to the other as she struggled to maintain her balance. She would choke when she slipped, gagging if she failed to keep her feet under her. Skipper was standing only ten feet away from Meg by this time, holding a shotgun in his left hand. He was also totally naked, touching himself with his free hand, as he stared intently at the young girl in pain.

  That son of a bitch, I’ll kill him. Delroy was sick with rage, the knot in his stomach about to explode. Before he could stop himself he let out a low growl.

  Skipper turned and saw Delroy just as he was starting to come toward him. He was twenty feet away and closing fast. Skipper was surprised but recovered quickly and raised his gun at Delroy. He smiled, not believing what good luck he was having. Damn, I get to kill her favorite uncle, too. I wonder if mommy’s around?

  The shotgun went off and echoed inside the cavern. For a second all was quiet, and then a scream as powerful as the blast filled the damp air.

  56.

  Old Mr. Bobcat

  “No boy, that ain’t how you gut a fish. This is how you gut a fish.”

  Matthew took the day’s catch from Peck and showed him again how to gut and clean the fish so it was ready to fry later on that night. At first Peck was afraid of the knife and the fish as well. His hands didn’t seem dexterous enough to do the job, and he was as likely to slice his own finger as to prepare the catch.

  Most men would have lost interest in Peck and decided this strange boy wasn’t their problem. Matthew was not most men. He would sit there with Peck, showing him how to hold the knife for the hundredth time, letting him practice with one blue gill or bream after the next.

  Peck got the hang of it and learned how to hold a knife and not stab himself at the same time. Finally, Matthew let him be the fish cleaner, a job Peck took very seriously. He gave him his own filet knife and ankle sheath to carry it in. Peck followed Matthew everywhere that summer. He tied that knife to his ankle whether they were going fishing or not.

  Almost daily they went deep into the Neck, where Peck soaked up everything Matthew taught him, especially about patience. Peck understood patience like no other boy in town. He waited his whole life to understand people. Being told to wait until the “time was just right” made sense to him.

  They hunted squirrels and rabbits and whatever else the Neck had to offer. Matthew kept driving home the same point.

  “You got to wait, Peck. You think it’s never gonna be time, but that’s okay. You gotta wait. The time to take care of business will show itself to you. It wants to be found. You just have to wait for that time to be just right and keep looking every second you’re waiting. When the time comes for anything, especially out here, you’ll know. You’ll know it like you know how to wake up in the morning, like you know how to kiss your momma on the cheek after you say your bedtime prayers.”

  Peck spent that summer waiting with Matthew, watching him know when to take care of business with every animal they hunted. Matthew never seemed hurried, never let the wait fluster him. Sometimes he looked at Peck expectantly and almost smiling, as if to say “no problem, any minute now, boy.”

  Now, in the tunnel with his sister, Peck knew that they were the animals and that the bad man was the hunter. He caught them, and Peck knew that sooner or later he would gut them, too. The only difference in this and hunting with Matthew was that the bad man didn’t kill them right away.

  Matthew always killed his animals right away. That was just the nature of hunting another living thing. Even when you put fish on a string they were as good as dead. He never caught something, carried it away, and saved the killing for later. Never. The killing always came first and everything else followed.

  This bad man is doing everything backwards, thought Peck, and he was glad of it. He knew that, as long as he wasn’t dead, there was a chance to help his sister. He had the chance to wait, to be patient, to take care of business.

  So Peck waited.

  He waited when the bad man was being mean to his sister. That was the hardest waiting he ever had to do, but he kept hearing Matthew tell him to be patient, to let the time “show itself to you.” He waited when the bad man was leading them through the tunnels and calling him names. Others had called him names his whole life. He could wait through that. He waited when the bad man put the ties on his hands and left Peck lying on the ground like a sack of corn. Through it all, he waited.

  The bad man didn’t know that Peck was patient. He didn’t know that Peck was w
aiting for the time to show itself. He didn’t know that, over the long, hot summer, Peck learned about taking care of business.

  When the bad man finally made his sister undress and tied her up, it was as if Peck no longer existed to him. He was invisible and then Peck knew. It was time to take care of business. Just like I know how to kiss Momma on the cheek.

  Peck slid his jeans leg up and took his knife out of its sheath. Through all the waiting the bad man never checked to see if Peck was carrying anything. The knife was sharper than a barber’s razor, with an edge that Peck honed every night. He cut the plastic ties around his wrist and started to go toward the bad man when he saw another figure enter the cavernous room. Even in the dark he could tell it was Uncle Delroy. He wanted so badly to run to him.

  Then the bad man raised the gun at his uncle. Peck could feel the sweat pouring down his face, and heard the shallow rasps of his own breath in his ears. He thought he would freeze but then heard Matthew’s voice, this time shouting.

  “It’s time son! It’s time to take care of your business! Your time is now, it’s now! You’ve got this, boy, it’s yours!”

  With that, Peck plunged his knife deep into the bad man’s hamstring, twisting it as it went in. The summer hardened Peck’s arms with new muscles, and he didn’t stop pushing until the knife hit bone. The bad man let out a deafening scream after his gun blasted.

  Peck pulled the knife out and readied to stick the bad man again. Matthew’s voice rang in Peck’s head.

  “That’s right Peck, do like old Mr. Bobcat. He’s good at waiting, too, and when he hunts he goes for the eyes and the balls. He knows that will drop anything. Don’t matter what you are, you’re gonna fall if your eyes or balls get cut.”

  Peck couldn’t reach the bad man’s eyes, but his balls were at shoulder level. He plunged the knife into the bad man’s crotch, twisted it, and neutered him with a turn of his wrist.

  The bad man fell down now, grabbing himself and writhing in pain. The shotgun fell to the floor and, without thinking, Peck went over and took it out of the bad man’s reach. He brought it over to his uncle.

  Delroy was bleeding from a hole in his shoulder and arm. When Peck stabbed Skipper, the gun slid to the left of where he was aiming but not so far that he missed Delroy. It’s hard to miss anything with a shotgun in such a small space. Peck took his shirt off and tied a tourniquet around his uncle’s arm the way Matthew showed him. “Boy, you gotta be ready to take care of yourself in the old Neck. 911 don’t come out here.”

  Delroy sat up and took the gun with his good arm. Peck then walked over to his sister and took the rope from around her neck. She fell to the ground and took her little brother with her, holding him.

  “Oh, baby brother, my brave, baby brother,” was all she could say. She held him tightly, her tears bathing them both. Just like that, as soon as Peck’s time came, it was over. He dropped his face into his sister’s bosom and started crying as well. For such a little boy the last few hours seemed a lifetime. Things felt too different. Peck didn’t like it at all.

  It was this crying, along with the howls of a very bad man and the whispers of a very scared sister, that Kero and Tommy heard as they ran into the tunnel room. When they got there they stopped, amazed at the scene before them.

  57.

  Delroy Takes a Ride

  The weeks following that night in the tunnels were busy, but things finally sorted themselves out.

  Tommy was quick to get Broyles to drop the charges against Newt. Broyles resisted at first. He made a hell of a production announcing the capture and pursuit of the death penalty against Newt. He didn’t want to look like a fool to the voting public. Tommy convinced him that the faster he dropped charges against Newt, the more apt those voters would believe that he was a fair man. Broyles was self-aware enough to know he wasn’t a fair man, but Tommy was right. The charges were dropped two days after Tommy and Kero dragged Skipper, naked and bleeding, in from the tunnels. Newt was then transferred back to Chatham County.

  Chatham County took another seventy-two hours. The District Attorney went so far as to say that the Gratis case had no bearing on his case, and that “this killer was caught lying down with poor Merry Clemens admiring his work.”

  When news of Skipper’s capture spread, however, a bartender at Pinky Master’s came forward on the evening news. He remembered Skipper in the bar on the day of Merry’s murder. One of his old girlfriends, a junior at SCAD, was there and told him this “creepy old dude” kept looking at her and her friends. Skipper was that creepy old dude.

  The Chatham detectives then pulled all traffic cam footage from the hours surrounding Merry’s murder and identified Skipper’s Jaguar pulling off I-16 at almost six that evening. After that, the District Attorney relented and dropped all charges against Newt “pending further investigation.” Newt walked out of the Chatham County jail that night. Kero was there waiting to take his friend home.

  Skipper refused to make any statements following his arrest. He was taken to Gratis Memorial and sewn back together, at least somewhat. They saved his life but they couldn’t save his testicles. When he finally came to, Skipper refused to talk to anyone and appeared catatonic.

  He was taken to Georgia Regional, where he was to be housed until he learned to speak again. Delroy figured he was probably faking to set up an incompetency defense. More importantly, Skipper didn’t want to get placed in the general prison population. A castrato, who happened to be a would-be child molester, would not fair too well with the other inmates. Skipper didn’t need his law degree to figure that out, so there he stayed, not saying a word. Delroy hoped he woke up sweating every night, missing his freedom, and his balls.

  Although the manhunt was over, news teams still swelled Daddy Jack’s with thirsty cameramen and roving reporters buying rounds for anyone who might have any new scoop. This was the juiciest story most of them had seen in years, whether they were from Atlanta or elsewhere. One local swore she even gave directions to Diane Sawyer. When pressed for details, however, she couldn’t explain why Diane was driving an old mint green Taurus.

  Delroy was still recovering, his left arm hanging in a sling, when he decided to go to Daddy Jack’s the second Saturday after that night at the turtle palace. He and Amy walked down into the Rendezvous, his hand grasping her shoulder for balance as he came down the narrow, steep staircase. Amy told him he shouldn’t have gone out, but he was stir crazy after days in the hospital. He needed to be around other people.

  They went up to the bar and ordered two Sweetwaters. Newt gave them their pints moments later. Out of deference to his attorney he tried not to eye Amy, but couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her when he could.

  “Damn, Delroy, your woman ain’t nothing but fine,” he said under his breath. He wondered if he should steal her from the man who gave him his life back. He would have to ponder that one.

  They sat there at the end of the bar, Delroy’s injured arm dangling while Amy held his good hand. They enjoyed being together in front of everyone. Running around and calling themselves co-counsels was one thing. Knowing they might become a real team was another. They got through one very bad situation together and, for now, basked in the calm.

  “My goodness, look at you two, reminds me of my junior prom. Make sure you don’t get your braces all latched together.” Kero laughed at the two, smiling at his own joke. He was on his third rum and coke. It didn’t take much to make him smile.

  “Kero, I’m just taking care of my friend. He’s had a hard time. I am a little worried at how that beer is going to react with all the pain meds he has in his system, though.” Amy kept holding Delroy’s hand and took a sip of her beer.

  “None of y’all have to worry about a thing. I thought I might have a drink tonight so I didn’t take a pill all day. Nobody’s going to get any story about a local lawyer falling on his face, at least not tonight.” Delroy smiled and grimaced at the same time.

  “Well, that’s just so damned a
dmirable Delroy. Placing your growing pill addiction on hold so you can drink is a hell of a sacrifice.” Kero started to say more but a couple of patrons on the porch started mouthing off to each other. He left them to check things out.

  “I’ve told you two that I will throw you off the porch and into the river if you don’t stop that. This place is a classy juke joint, not like the joints where your mommas met your daddies!”

  Delroy and Amy both laughed at that and finished their beers. Delroy was about to order another when Amy told him to wait.

  “Amy, let me just get another. I have seriously earned it.”

  “I know you have, but trust me, I have somewhere to take you, and you’ll like it. Let’s go.”

  Delroy just sat on his stool eyeing her. Amy spoke again. “Delroy, I know exactly where your arm hurts. Do not make me prove it to you.”

  That was all he needed to hear. Damn she’s hot. Delroy paid up and followed Amy up the stairs and into the early evening air.

  They had parked Amy’s BMW in front of Daddy Jack’s when they arrived. When they came out the Chevelle was parked in its place. Delroy looked at Amy, a little confused.

  “Delroy, get in.”

  “Amy, you know I can’t drive a stick right now. It’s going to be awhile.”

  Amy crooked her head. “Well, I didn’t say get in the driver’s seat, did I? Go over there and get in.”

  Delroy smiled and got in the passenger’s seat. Amy bent down at the front tire, got the keys from where they were hidden, and jumped behind the wheel.

  “Amy, where’s your car?” Delroy was enjoying this.

  “I got Anna to drop your car here and I let her take my car with her. I believe she’s going to take Meg and Peck down to Tybee Island for a very long weekend. I expect it to last until at least next Friday. I hear Tommy may have plans to be there at the same time, by the way, just so you know.”

  “Amy, those two kids, at the beach in your car, well, don’t blame me when you still have sand in your seats until Christmas.” Amy acted like she didn’t hear him and gunned the Chevelle down the road.